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Grains of FreedomBy: Alex CastriconeRed, curled hair framed the face of a young woman in a white dress as she silently walked onto the beach, her bare feet sinking into the ground with each step. She bent down and slid her hand against it in a fan-like motion, just one sweep, and hardened her gaze before quickly allowing her blue orbs to soften. Sand slipped through her small, delicate hands as she spread her fingers. Absently, she gazed at the slipping grains before her eyes closed. A breeze caused her hair to flip wildly about, strands of hair clinging to the front of her face, but she did not flinch.The wind ceased, causing her wispy hair to drop back down upon her shoulders and upon her back in a messy fashion. She let out a grumble, too lazy to fix the mess. She instead lifted her hands up in the air, letting her body fall back into the sand, the back of her hands gently brushing holes into the hot land beneath her.

“Freedom,” she exhaled as her mind unwound, allowing the sounds of the ocean, which crashed upon the rocks with a mighty crash, to soothe her. The end of her dress became damp as the ocean water reached it, licking her feet with a cold, relaxing chill. This was her happy place, the one place she did not feel a sliver of stress. No angry bosses, lazy coworkers, bills, or broken friendships could bring her down. These problems simply did not exist as soon as her foot stepped from pavement near her car, to the sand of the beach.

"It is times like these that make life worth living," she thought to herself. This beautiful, content mindset caused her large, young blue eyes to well up with tears, and a smile to grace her radiant visage. In that moment, she was happy. In that moment, she was untouchable. But most importantly, in that one moment, she was free.

I usually like to find a photo to go along with prose when putting it up online. However, this short piece has such nice images, a photo isn't necessary. In fact, I worry that a photo much ruin the image I see in my mind's eye.